The Art of Capture
by oncejustadream
Summary: Begins the night Helena takes Kira, only this time Sarah finds the two of them earlier. She's taken in her daughter's place, and is given a glimpse into Helena's world. Will switch between Sarah and Helena's points of view.
1. Chapter 1

The Art of Capture

I.

When Sarah woke her senses returned to her in strange sequence, bits and pieces of awareness filtering in like broken sunlight glimpsed through closed eyelids. Hair tickling her face, the sensation of another body a breath away from her own, a dampness clinging to the back of her skull. She felt the ghost of a hand that had gently stroked her hair from her face moments before. Then, when she finally opened her eyes, shadows crawling across the concrete beneath her. As she lifted her head to look around her the dark room spun, and the sight of a blue light glowing on the far wall sent a flash of pain streaking behind her eyes, which she closed again in defense.

She heard a voice whisper her name, wrapping it in a wary tenderness. The faint accent that dragged out each syllable revealed the speaker's identity, and suddenly fuzzy memories of how she'd come to be in her current position returned to Sarah. The pair of red-rimmed eyes that greeted her when she opened her own once more sent chills of recognition shivering along her spine as she recalled screaming her daughter's name in panic, finding them both crouched down in that narrow alley.

She could remember the yells that had erupted from her at the sight of Helena touching Kira, how she'd instantly regretted them as they broke the spell of stillness that seemed to have gathered in the air around the two. She could envision the vulnerability in Helena's face when she'd glanced up, how at the sight of Sarah's anger it had contorted into a feral look of hurt and desire.

Vaguely she remembered how Kira had smiled as the little girl had scrambled to her side. She recalled the slippery texture of her winter coat as she grasped it tightly, relief washing over her for one brief moment.

The next thing she could remember was Helena pouncing forward, pressing her to the wall by the neck.

_How can she be your daughter, _Helena had hissed in her ear, and Sarah had twisted her face against the rough bricks to find the child in question frozen with wide eyes in the falling snow. "Kira, run," she'd managed to bark forcefully. After that she'd tried to twist free of the hold, and then everything became a blur. Somehow she'd found herself on the wet ground, lungs reeling for air from a series of blows. She could hear Kira screaming for help somewhere in the distance.

"Helena, let me go," she remembered begging. "Please."

Fear and anger had swum in the blonde's eyes, and it was the former that had told Sarah she was in danger.

A man's voice had joined Kira's; they were approaching from the street. Sarah had scrambled to her elbows. A hand had knotted in her hair, strong arms yanking her backwards round the corner. Pain had exploded at her temple, radiated outward. Sarah could remember striking out blindly, desperate to free herself. The taste of iron had flooded her mouth, her teeth jolting into her tongue as her head met the wall again and again. The last thing she remembered were strong hands gripping her arms, dragging her through the snow into the night.

In the dark room Sarah's breathing quickened. She shifted in the chair, the movement producing a metallic rattling that lead her to the sobering discovery of a set of cuffs binding her wrists to her sides. Helena was staring at her without expression, and she felt herself return to the day they'd first met, her back pinned to the ground as the terrifyingly familiar stranger's eyes and hands roamed her face. Like in that moment, she now felt herself tremble with fear as adrenaline brought life to her weary limbs, dozens of frantic thoughts flickering through her cloudy mind.

"Helena." Sarah swallowed thickly against dried blood and spit, sore throat and torn tongue aching in protest. _Where are we_, she was going to ask, praying that there was some possibility of being found. But the creak of a heavy door opening somewhere behind her drew both women's attention. Helena glanced over Sarah's head, something like excitement in her eyes.

"See, I've brought her to you, Tomas. Like we said."

Sarah held her breath, her entire body going rigid. Footsteps echoed in the empty cabin and stopped. There was silence for a moment and the skin on the back of Sarah's neck prickled with goose bumps at the presence of someone behind her.

Suddenly fingers brushed through her hair. She flinched violently, the tension that had built in her nerves exploding at the man's rough touch. The movement worsened the throbbing in her head and she was forced to be still as his hands explored her scalp. "Easy," he warned in a flat, cold voice that reminded Sarah of an old foster parent. "Don't touch me," she rasped in reflex, only leading him to chuckle softly and continue. Helena was looking up at him searchingly. From the desperation in her face Sarah gathered that he was ignoring her.

Finally withdrawing his painful touch he stepped into view. His face was level with the harsh light on the wall and its features faded in and out of clarity as her vision swam under the brightness. She could vaguely see that they were downturned and bloated, garishly ugly like some kind of gargoyle. Sunken baggy eyes stared at her from beneath thick eyebrows with calculated concern. She tried to hold his gaze, to show some kind of strength despite her vulnerable position, but the light was too much and her eyes refused to focus.

"You've been rough with it, Helena. It's not as strong as you are."

_It_. Sarah's fingers curled into a fist. She felt sick and she wasn't sure if it was because of the light or the man in front of her. Her stomach churned with dread as he stripped away her humanity with that one word.

When Helena spoke her voice was void of the forceful, uncontrolled quality Sarah had grown to expect. She sounded like a child, timid and unsure. "She can help us, Tomas. She can be saved, I can see it."

Tomas continued to study Sarah, but this time she got the sense that he was staring through her, thinking hard about something. Sarah wanted to reason with him, but she couldn't think of anything that might give her an edge. She was nobody, she was already supposed to be dead. The perfect kidnapping victim.

Finally a resolute, inspired look came over Tomas' face and he answered his unfortunate disciple.

"Perhaps you're right. But you know that we can't help her until she wants us to. First she must be made to understand, just like you, in the beginning. Do you remember?" He looked to Helena as he spoke the question. She closed her eyes, a strange look that Sarah couldn't quite identify passing over her face.

_Made to understand. _Sarah didn't want to imagine what that statement entailed, what it meant for her… or for Helena. The sudden pity that flared in her at the sight of Tomas' hand moving to her counterpart's shoulder angered her- only hours ago this woman had threatened her daughter and tried to send her skull through a brick wall. Now she was chained to a chair, completely at the mercy of a man who believed she was an abomination, who had disposed of others like her and turned one of them into a murderer. She should have killed Helena in that apartment, should have put her out of her misery. But something had held her back and now she was paying for it, facing God knows what fate and unable to even blame her captor.

"Tomas led me to redemption, Sarah," Helena murmured, a flame of conviction warming her cold eyes. Tomas unexpectedly stepped out of sight, and Sarah heard the door squeak open and shut. "He showed me the light, and now we can show you, too."

Sarah recognized the opportunity. They were alone now. She had one chance.

"Helena, listen to me. We don't need Tomas, we don't need to be saved." She tried to keep her voice placating and steady, to hold back the unsteadiness creeping in. "You're right, there is a light in us. In all of us-

"No, I've seen the others, you're wrong."

"Okay, okay, but Helena, you've met Kira." Sarah's voice cracked as she remembered her daughter. She realized she had no idea what had happened to her after she'd lost consciousness.

"You held her hand, she was real, yeah? Tomas hasn't seen that, he doesn't understand. How can I be wrong, unnatural, if I made her?"

"She is an angel. You were chosen, to help us, for a higher purpose. She's a sign."

Sarah's pulse picked up speed in frustration as her words fell on deaf ears. She could see the blonde retreating, unwilling to let the walls of faith that Tomas had erected around her fall.

"If you let me go, I will find a way to help you, Helena. But I can't help you in this place. I won't." Her voice hardened, a dash of anger slipping through the sympathetic appeals. She needed the other woman to feel that whatever bond she had imagined was in danger. "You hurt me, you brought me here against my will. Our connection doesn't mean shit if you don't make that right."

Sarah paused to look into Helena's eyes. She tried to transmit all of her emotions through their locked gaze, tried to appeal to the empathy that she hoped still resided somewhere within the other woman.

"I want to trust you."

For a moment she thought it might have worked- Helena was rocking back and forth on her heels, eyes flickering from Sarah's face to the cuffs around her wrists. Sarah nodded at her encouragingly. The blonde ran a finger along the edge of the cuff in thought, her touch so light Sarah thought it might not be there. It was a disorienting contradiction: such gentleness coming from such a violent human being.

Just as Helena opened her mouth to speak, the creak of the door invaded both women's awareness.

"Helena, get away from her."

"We can help each other. Helena." Sarah heard the footsteps approach again, rapidly. Her panic rose. "He's not on your side, you can stop him, just-

Her pleas broke with a pained cry as Tomas gabbed her by her hair, jerking her head back abruptly. "What has she been telling you? That I'm wrong, that you should let her go, run away from me? You know better than that, Helena."

Sarah's blood was still burning with fear and anticipation, but her vision had clouded with dots of black and she could feel her body beginning to shake as the twisted position Tomas held her in strained her bruised ribs. She tried one last time, meeting Helena's unsure eyes, hoping the physical aggression might have forced her doubt to its climax.

"Tomas," Helena growled, reaching out to grab the hand still clenched in Sarah's hair. "Let go." Her body language had shifted, the obsequious head bowing and simmering appeals for attention replaced by the poised threat of a dog defending its master. There was a pause, and then a hard slap echoed through the room.

"You could forget Mariya so easily?"

The slap had been powerful, but Sarah saw that the words had stung much more sharply. Helena had been about to spring from where she'd fallen on the floor, enraged, but with the utterance of that name all of the fight seemed to leave her body.

"Mariya, who warned you for years of temptation. And now you're about to let yourself meet the same fate as her, for this _sheep_'s devil words."

Helena's face melted. She pressed the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes. "You're right, Tomas. I'm sorry."

With those words Sarah felt all of the energy drain out of her. The door to her escape had slammed shut. Tomas released her and her head rolled forward, breath returning to her lungs in long shuddering gasps. Her captors continued to speak but their words flew past her ears without comprehension. She felt incredibly tired, exhaustion seeping through her like a drug. Vaguely she made out the hint of a smile playing on Tomas' flat purple lips as he crouched in front of her, having sent Helena from the room.

Sarah realized that he'd left them alone intentionally. To show her that there was no escape. That Helena was his and now she was too.

Her eyelids began to droop, though she tried to fight it. "Shh," she heard him murmur, his voice sounding far away. "Soon we'll get to know each other. But first, rest. We can't have you dying on us yet."

All along Sarah had thought that her most immediate threat had been Olivier and Neolutionism, or being uncovered by Art and the rest of the cops. But as Tomas pressed butterfly stitches to her forehead with much more force than was necessary, his hot breath inches from her face, she realized how wrong she'd been.


	2. Chapter 2

II.

Weakness was a monster that lived inside. It watched and waited in the unexplored waters of the soul too dark for the conscious mind to penetrate, then it clawed its way to the surface in a flash of rising tide. But for Helena, weakness existed beyond the boundary of the physical body. It walked the streets in empty vessels, copies of her image created by the devil to spread his word. She was to hunt them down, to empty them of their power.

Today, though, Helena had looked weakness in the eye and she had crumbled.

From her place on the floor she could not look at Tomas and she could not look at Sarah. Tomas was speaking to her but she didn't hear him. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry_ she murmured unconsciously. She was suddenly somewhere far away, in a place where the sound of Sarah's heavy breathing became her own frantic inhalations, where the steel beneath her changed texture to become asphalt stinging her palms. When Tomas reached to pull her to her feet he grabbed the arm of a ten-year-old child, not the adult that he had slapped the rebellion from moments before.

Only a few memories still lingered from her time with the nuns. All of them of the same woman. Outside in the hallway Helena was overcome by the feeling of hugging her skirt, the overwhelming smell of a market hanging in the air.

_May I please go outside to play?_

_If you've finished all of your chores, you can come with me to town._

_Spesybo, Sestra!_

They would go to town. She would get to see the other children playing, they'd look up from fun games and their smiles would say _come join us. _As the sun went down she and Mariya would walk back home hand in hand, singing her favorite hymn.

Except that had never happened. Helena had ruined their happiness.

Her breath hitched with remembrance and she trembled as she leaned against the wall. She had almost been tricked into forgetting. Weak. Shameful. No better than the others.

The sound of the metal door grating on its hinges saved her from the self-loathing thoughts. Still unable to look at Tomas, she stared at her feet.

"Let's hope that your moment of weakness hasn't cost us anything. That kind of doubt cannot happen again and be forgiven."

"I'm know, Tomas. I'm sorry. She is special somehow, stronger than the others."

"Don't make excuses. For now the sheep stays in there, and you will stay out here." He turned and twisted the rusty padlock on the door into the locked position; it clicked with finality. "You're too easily tempted. The prisoner is important to our cause, I can't allow you to risk our best chance."

The taste of her failure still burning her tongue, Helena knew that he was right; yet a part of her cried out in protest at his words. She stared at the lock with frustration and longing.

As if in answer to her confliction Tomas had suddenly moved in front of her, grabbing her and lifting her against the wall so that her toes just scraped the ground. His hands clenched the collar of her coat. Helena stared at the gnarled fingers stained with red. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, that same red blood pounding in her veins.

Tomas brought his face inches from her own. "If you even try to see the sheep against my orders, I will lock you up too. Do you understand?"

Darkness. Cold. Stiff muscles. Iron bars.

Helena understood.

Her chin dipped with a reluctant nod. Tomas exhaled and eased her back to her feet. "You know I don't mean to be cruel, but you test me. It's all for your own good. I know it's difficult for you, to be so close to them, but you did right to bring the sheep here." He stroked Helena's cheek. "I just want to make sure that we don't waste this opportunity."

"Now, go and atone." Helena watched him leave towards the front of the ship. As he walked his heavy form threw a hunched shadow arching over the curved walls of the narrow corridor.

It reminded her of Satan.

* * *

The book lay on a table and the blonde woman bowed before it, fingers tracing the well-memorized verses unconsciously. Her lips moved soundlessly around the hallowed words.

_ "And almost all things are by the law purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is no remission." _

The razor was cold but as it parted her skin it drew a hot rivulet of blood to the surface. The wound stung mercifully. Pain as escape, pain to release sin. She tried to free her mind, to allow her thoughts to burn away into white agony, but the confrontation in the alley plagued her like a fragmented fever dream.

There had been a child, a beautiful child with a slight wave in her auburn hair. That same wave had rippled naturally through her own hair once, a long time ago, hadn't it? Before the angels had come to melt down her sin and forge her a golden halo, before they'd taken her into hiding and put a knife in her palm.

The child's letter was still crumpled in her pocket. She pulled it out with her free hand as she whimpered against a fresh surge of pain. One sentence stood out.

_Mrs. S. says you are in the sunshine._

Sunshine was a stranger now and Helena could barely remember what it felt like. But the alley had been dark and yet the emptiness that normally came with darkness had been missing. The child had touched her face, her small hand possessed of a gentleness that Helena hadn't known existed, and for a moment she'd felt graced by the kind of escape that had eluded her for the entirety of her remembered life. Kira was light, sunshine itself.

Helena couldn't understand how a child so pure could have been created by one of her copies. The impossibility frightened her.

Her fingertips brushed over the ridges of her wings and the disfigurement caused her to shudder. These wings had never granted her escape like that child had in one breath. Kira was a true angel, the true light; something Helena knew that she, hands stained with so much blood, could never really become.

* * *

When Thomas returned Helena was sitting by one of the windows watching dusk settle over the harbor like ash. The low fog that had gathered above the water and slithered over the pier masked her companion's arrival; she just barely noticed him as he slipped down to the lower level. When she left her post to go meet him she saw that he carried shopping bags in his arms. The sight was unfamiliar but welcome; Helena's mouth watered and her stomach clenched painfully as she remembered that she hadn't eaten anything for at least a day.

"Hello, Tomas," she greeted, eyeing the groceries. Tomas dropped the bags unceremoniously under a small white table.

"For the prisoner," he said, gesturing to the bags. With his foot he pushed one away from the others. "For you."

Helena left the doorway and retrieved her bag, rifling through its contents. Crackers, water bottles, peanuts. a banana. The latter was ripe; her fingers left small depressions in the soft fruit as she peeled away the outer layer and took a bite. Gradually the knots in her stomach loosened, clearing her head somewhat. She thought of Sarah, slumped in her chair in that little room. Helena wondered if she was awake, if she was hungry.

No, not Sarah. Sheep. Demon. Hunger could only wound it further, drive it out of her.

Helena looked up from her half-eaten banana. She cocked her head in her companion's direction; he was leaning over the table adjusting something, his back turned to her. "Tomas?"

"Yes, Helena?"

"What will you do to her?"

Tomas paused and shifted slightly. Helena could see what he had been working on- a rudimentary light, rigged up to a tripod. It flashed on and off as he tested it with the portable generator they had stored on the ship.

"I'm going to find a way to make the creature useful for our cause."

"But you won't… kill her?"

Tomas didn't turn. The light flashed again. "We cannot let the demon live, you know that. But I don't plan to kill the sheep, exactly. The prisoner will still breathe, but the demon must die."

Helena chewed at her thumb in thought, staring at her master's back. Sarah's words weighed heavily on her mind. _How can I be wrong, unnatural, if I made her_? Destroying the demon would undoubtedly destroy whatever part of Sarah had created the child, whatever vestige of light had somehow flourished inside of her. Helena had seen that light when Sarah had allowed her to live, the night in Maggie Chen's apartment.

Tomas approached Helena, resting a hand heavily on her shoulder and eliciting a hiss as he rubbed one of the reopened scars. He continued to massage the spot anyway as Helena looked up at him with wary, flinching eyes.

"The prisoner was imitating the cop?" he asked.

"Yes." Copy-cop, too smart for her own good…

"Good, then it'll be difficult reporting anything. It's unlikely that there'll be a serious search effort from their end, at least not yet. The same can't be said for the Neolutionists, unfortunately. I need you to be on the lookout for anyone who comes by- we may have to move location if they find us somehow."

"Okay." They'd moved many times. It always seemed to bother Tomas, picking up and searching for somewhere new to hide away, but Helena didn't mind. She had not had a true home since the convent, not even when she'd lived with Tomas for five years in their small cabin. The only reason she feared moving was the toll it took on Tomas' mood. Perhaps if they had Sarah with them things would be different.

"I'm going to stay here for a while. Coming and going too often will give us away. You're to stay on the ship as well."

He picked up the light and headed in the direction of Sarah's room. "I'll be out soon. Go to the upper level to watch." Helena did as she was told.

* * *

Tomas had never slept on the freighter before; he passed through only occasionally to deliver new information. His newly constant presence was a reminder that despite the silence, Helena was not alone on the ship. Every so often he would rise from his place on the other side of the large room to go check on Sarah, Helena watching his every step with wakeful eyes.

In the dark she could not relax. She pressed her face to the mattress that reeked of mold and sweat, rocking fitfully in a state of half-dreaming. Sarah's presence reached out to her from the other side of the wall. She couldn't breathe with the other woman so near; the close proximity teased her, deepened her obsession. Desperately she caressed her own face, running a thumb over those familiar features and imagining that they belonged to her copy.

Sleep had been something to fear, once. She'd watched tree shadows shiver on the wooden ceiling, had felt her muscles cramp as she'd propped herself up on sore elbows and stared through the crack of the open door to her room for hours. The minutes had ground away slowly while dread frayed her young nerves. Waiting for him. Waiting for the yelling and the bruises and the guilt.

That was when the loneliness had begun to spread through her like frostbite, eating away her identity and her memories. What was left was the strength that her calling required, Tomas had said. He'd helped her to become what she'd needed to be.

But Sarah and her daughter had brought warmth flooding back into the parts of her that had been frozen, and now her soul ached. Half of Helena wanted to let that pain consume her, and the other half wanted to give it back to Sarah, to shed it permanently. All she knew for certain was that she didn't want Sarah locked away, hidden from sight. She wanted to face her weakness head on, wanted trial by fire.

As Tomas returned from the other room Helena watched him slip a key over his neck before rolling onto her side.

_Sarah Manning,_ she thought. _Do you have fear of sleep? Are you watching the door?_


	3. Chapter 3

III.

Sarah had memorized the sound of Tomas' footsteps; the impression of those boots striking the steel floor had been ingrained so vividly in her addled mind that she had begun to hear him coming even when he wasn't. In this void she was trapped in, where the world was stripped of time and reality, constants like the footsteps or a drip in the ceiling were all that she had to ground herself.

At first she'd been unable to stop thinking about the mess of a life she'd left behind her in the alley- Olivier and the Neolutionists, Cosima's Dr. Leekie, her attempts to unearth some of her past in Britain. Kira, whom she'd last seen crying out in the middle of the city. Imprisonment by religious lunatics was not a variable she had anticipated while knee deep in that shit storm, and it seemed impossible that she could now be so isolated from the rest of the chaos. Once she'd come to accept the reality of her situation she'd tried to brainstorm escape plans, but nothing came to mind. As the hours passed by in a haze the outside world melted away; her only priority became her ailing body.

She was sure that she had now gone days without sleep. At first she just couldn't seem to rest; her brain skipped and ran, refusing to shut down. She'd never had a head wound before but she imagined it must be the cause, combined with stress. Then, when the exhaustion became powerful enough that it might have overpowered all else, Tomas had brought a bright light into the room and positioned it a foot away from her face. He came in to disturb her every time she was close to drifting off, hadn't given her nearly enough food to ward off the pangs of hunger that tore at her stomach. Anything to keep her awake.

Just as the little electric shocks of sleep were beginning to jolt through her bones once more, she heard Tomas' footsteps coming from the hall as if on cue. Head bowed, Sarah's eyes followed his legs as they stepped past her to sit in a chair that had been placed opposite hers.

"How are you feeling?" the gargoyle asked. "Tired?"

"Not much," Sarah sneered. As if in disagreement her stomach rolled with nausea from lack of sleep and she grimaced. She thought she saw a smile on Tomas' face.

"You know, the faster you realize that I can help you if you just give me the names, the faster you will be saved."

Sarah sighed in exasperation. She was too hungry and exhausted to listen to this, though she was sure that was the point.

"You're still feeding me that line? We've been through this, mate. I'm not like your little pet in there. You can't brainwash me into believing your religious bullshit."

"You don't know God," he replied, echoing his disciple's earlier words. When Helena had spoken them they'd been the words of a true believer, someone overcome by the reality of a faith that they had learned to depend on. Rolling off of Tomas' tongue they sounded like a weapon.

"There may come a time, sooner than you can imagine, that you might feel there's no choice but to turn to your Lord. Just like I realized I had no choice but to undertake this mission when I discovered the Neolutionists' work."

Despite her weariness and the danger that this man presented Sarah couldn't help but roll her eyes at this last statement.

"There is another option. You could just let me go, forget about the crusade. You're not the one who's been brought into this unwillingly."

"Unfortunately, I don't have much of a choice either. Once you know of sin's existence, you too are guilty of it, if you choose to do nothing. My faith compels me to act in the name of the lord."

"So killing innocent women is God's will? I'm no bible expert, but I'm pretty sure 'thou shalt not kill' is in there somewhere."

Tomas didn't even blink.

"You just get off on it, don't you?" Sarah sneered. Her captor's face was unreadable but he scooted his chair forward, so close that Sarah's entire body shrank away as much as her restrained position would allow.

"It is unfortunate," he said coldly, "that in order to send the Neolutionists a message, blood must be shed." Looking into his dead eyes, Sarah was sure that he didn't consider it unfortunate at all. "But the true crime is in your existence, not your deaths."

He threaded a finger through her hair, another sensation she'd become familiar with. Tomas seemed to have a fascination with hair. Sarah closed her weary eyes in response to the contact. It was a mistake. Sleep rushed at her at once, and when Tomas slid his hand to the back of her head and jerked it forward the abrupt jolt back to awareness made her feel worse than before. She peeled her eyes open to look at him and tried to recover the thread of the conversation. She thought that the more she talked to the man, the more he might come to view her as a person. Or at least that he might be preoccupied with the conversation, and wouldn't feel the need to get his entertainment through other means.

She thought of all the women he'd killed so far, the lives he'd stolen. Had they even known why?

She was about to ask a question, but as she swallowed to sooth her dry throat a cough jerked from her lungs. Tomas disappeared behind her briefly and returned with a water bottle in hand. He unscrewed the cap, and Sarah moved her hand to take it before remembering that her arms were now pinned behind her back, rendered useless. As Tomas held the bottle to her lips she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, tired of being forced to accept help from her captor for something as simple as drinking.

"Come, Sarah Manning," he taunted. "Even clones need to drink."

The water was a blessing as it slid down her throat. Tomas only allowed her a few sips before pulling the bottle away. Finished drinking, Sarah was suddenly aware of her body trying to shut down again. The room spun and her head dipped heavily towards her shoulder. Her vision began to swim out of focus, undulating darkness fighting to dominate light. The former was the victor for a moment as she faded out of consciousness, but next thing she was ripped from sleep by a hand squeezing her arm, strong fingers that pressed against the muscle so forcefully that they left bruises in the skin.

"You can sleep once I have a name," she heard Tomas growl, though his voice was still muffled as it filtered through her dulled senses. She groaned, and the sound became a pitiful whimper as Tomas shook her again, rekindling the pain in her head. He moved behind her, one hand on her shoulder, mouth by her ear. "I've been very patient and kind with you, in my opinion. This is your last chance to give me the information I want."

"Can't," she breathed. Her chest felt like a weight was pressing down on it.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

A moment passed and Sarah said nothing, hoping he would leave her to rot in the room alone. But without warning she felt him grab her pinkie and twist it outward. She felt the pain lance through the broken joint before her ears registered the snap. Her own scream was all that she could focus on for a moment as she rocked back and forth in the chair, muscles tensed and pulling in panic against Tomas' grip. She tried to think of something to say, in shock at the suddenness of his action, but before she could even sputter out a "wait" he had grabbed her ring finger. Her heart flew to her throat and she shouted for him to stop but there was a second snap. As he grabbed the third finger Sarah managed to gather her senses.

"I'll give you a name!" she shouted. Tomas was pressing her finger backwards slowly. Sarah's mind raced. Just as he was reaching the limit of her flexibility a name rose from the fog of her consciousness. It was an old name, buried in the past she'd left behind when she'd decided to get good for Kira. She lived under the radar- the name would be traceable, but not easily.

"Christina! Christina Dillon."

There was an unbearable pause, and then Tomas let go. "There," he said with bridled excitement. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Fuck yourself," she managed to choke out, voice jittery. The pain in her hand was overwhelming; she had nowhere to channel it, unable to move and direct it outward. She thought she could feel Tomas smiling behind her. He squeezed the two broken fingers cruelly before he left.

* * *

Helena was in the midst of eating the last of the newly purchased food when she heard the screams in the other room. She let the half-bitten cracker fall to the floor and turned in the direction of the haunting noise. In a moment Tomas had come into view, passing her as he went to pick up some of his belongings from a table in the corner.

"We've got a name," he informed her from over his shoulder. Helena was surprised- it had only been three days since she'd brought Sarah here. And, from what she could tell, Tomas had been patient with her up until now; there had been no blood or yelling, no evidence of violence. She couldn't imagine Sarah giving in so quickly- her power over Helena was too strong; she had to be more resilient than that. Something like disappointment swirled in the blonde's stomach.

"One of us has to stay here to keep watch, and I need to get out of this place. I'm not used to it. I'll go to investigate and you'll stay."

Usually Helena was desperate to escape the confines of wherever they were hiding at the time, but right now staying sounded perfect. Tomas had gotten too much time with Sarah; she had been the one to bring Sarah and she should be the one who got to get the names from her, got to bring her water. She wanted to know why she had screamed. Eyes alight with jealousy she watched her partner closely, fixated on only one thing.

"If this information is good, our job will be much easier." Tomas tucked a cell phone into his pants pocket and came closer. "The sheep broke more easily than I anticipated." He was smiling, and Helena knew he wanted her to share the smile, so she did.

"We're getting closer," he said.

Tomas wrapped his arms around her in an embrace that felt like ownership and as he pulled her into him Helena brought her hand up against his chest, right over his jacket pocket. She let her fingers creep imperceptibly into the space and smiled as she they brushed a hard, flat object resting against the rough fabric. Tomas' lips moved against her hair. "We're doing well, child. Are you ready for what comes next?"

Helena nodded and lifted her prize from the pocket with two fingers. She tucked it safely against her palm as Tomas pulled away.

When she had watched him walk furtively away across the pier, she finally unfolded her hand and gazed at the key, rusted and small. Sarah's scream echoed in her head as she headed downstairs to the locked room.

* * *

The sound of the key to the door rattling inside its lock broke the silence, and dread rose within Sarah at Tomas' inevitable reaction. She had hoped that it would take him longer to investigate the name, but at this point she wasn't sure how much time had really passed. She felt like she might have fallen asleep but she couldn't be sure; her memories had become unreliable, minutes forgotten after passing. But her eyes still burned and her throat felt bruised. Exhaustion still weighed on her heavily.

The footsteps that approached her chair were softer than she had grown accustomed to, so quiet that she thought she must be imagining them. She turned to see Helena approaching from the doorway, a pale phantom that carried her limbs so heavily even as she seemed to drift soundlessly across the floor. Paradoxical, as usual. Despite what she knew about Tomas, what she imagined he was capable of, it was Helena who drove chills up her spine.

The blonde made no introduction, just peered at her. "Why did you scream?"

"He broke my bloody fingers, your _savior_." Sarah exhaled quickly with disbelief and anger, teeth landing on her lower lip. Some of the pain that had been dulled by avoidance returned upon acknowledgment of the injury. Helena was studying the mangled digits in question, brow furrowed as if she was puzzling something.

"You spoke a name," she murmured.

"Yea. I did. So could you maybe return the favor and turn off that goddamn light?" The words were meant to be defiant but they were tinged with a slightly hysteric tightness of breath that communicated desperation over anything else. Helena sidled to the light and stood beside it, one hand on the pole. Sarah wished she hadn't moved there, where looking at her was so painful. She could feel Helena staring at every inch of her sore face.

"You look like her," she said with wonder in her voice. The comment seemed to come from nowhere, confusing Sarah.

"Wha'?"

"The angel. You have the same eyes. You are blessed. Why?"

There was only one way that Sarah considered herself blessed.

"Kira," she murmured. With the mention of her daughter's name she became more alert. "You're talking about Kira." Helena nodded and her eyes went distant. "Listen, you stay the hell away from her, got it?"

"The child is not mine to take," Helena said, shaking her head.

The firm words put Sarah's worries to rest for a moment, but the relief faded. "What, like I am?" she asked as the meaning of the sentence registered with her. Their eyes met for a second and Helena's mouth curled into a faint smile.

"Whose name did you give?" she asked, abruptly changing direction once more. Sarah slumped forward in the chair. She was too tired for this conversation.

"The light, Helena."

"Who is the sheep?" the blonde persisted.

"Tomas can fill you in. Or is that your job- stalk 'em, go after 'em? He leaves all the dirty work to you."

"I watch, so I can understand."

"Understand how best to kill them, right?" The feeling of Katja's blood drying against her cheek returned to Sarah. Even when she had been distracted with everything else that had occurred after the German's death, the memory of her sudden demise had remained in her mind. She had never been able to shake the feeling of being watched, hunted.

"Were you watching me to understand? Bringing me here, that wasn't part of the plan, was it."

"I don't understand you."

Sarah closed her eyes as another wave of nausea hit her. As soon as she did, the red glow that had filtered through her eyelids from the light was suddenly extinguished. The darkness seemed to bring the heavy silence and stillness that Sarah needed; it seeped into her nerves like a drug and she felt her breath begin to slow.

"But I will, I think," Helena was murmuring, "now that you're here." Sarah flinched as she felt the blonde's hand come to rest on her knee, just as it had in Chen's apartment. She opened her eyes briefly, but the light had burned them and all she saw was black.

"Shh, Sarah," Helena whispered, stroking her knee with her thumb. "You rest now, yes?"

The blonde suddenly felt confusingly safe, and Sarah felt like she could cry as she was finally granted the mercy of sleep. She didn't understand Helena either, she realized, but she would take her over her emotionless master. She only hoped that Tomas would take a while to return, so that this time the sleep would last.


	4. Chapter 4

IV

After she'd watched Sarah pass in and out of two separate dreams, Helena stood from her chair and stretched. She went to the light and switched it back on, jarring the sleeping woman awake. She wanted to leave her with the memory of her presence just as she had fallen asleep, so she slipped out of the room silently before the prisoner's eyes opened.

In the upper level of the ship she pressed her hand to a foggy window and wished to be outside. Across the harbor a group of men were working to haul a boat out of the water. A morning breeze was rolling in and they stood with their gloved hands in their pockets, shifting from foot to foot in the bitter cold. In a few minutes the bottom of the vessel had broken the surface, a curtain of water falling from its sides. As it was pulled higher into the air by the machine Helena suddenly noticed the figure of a man who had been standing on another part of the pier, previously obscured by the boat. He didn't appear to have any reason to be there, and as she studied him she realized he was looking in the direction of the freighter.

It could have been a coincidence, he could just be enjoying the sunrise, but Helena's hand dropped to her pocket to rest instinctively on the hilt of her knife. She memorized his silhouette and continued to watch him, a stock-still sentry, as she waited for Tomas to return.

By the time he did the sun was at its highest point. The mystery figure had disappeared some time ago and the harbor was mostly clear of people. Tomas moved slowly down the walk and pretended to be inspecting a ship nearby. He looked around the area and then, upon deciding that it was safe, boarded the freighter.

Helena didn't allow any time to pass. As soon as he entered the ship she rushed towards him and wrapped her arms around him, dropping the key into his back pocket swiftly. Tomas pushed her away roughly soon after.

"Don't lie to me child: did you take the key?"

Helena shook her head. Tomas grabbed her by the front of her coat and shook her.

"You're lying, I know you took it. There's no other explanation, it couldn't have fallen out."

"Did you check pants pockets?" Helena suggested, raising her eyebrows earnestly. Tomas paused in his anger and shot her a look, before reluctantly releasing her and feeling each of his pockets. When he found the object in question he visibly relaxed, though his face was still slightly suspicious and embarrassed.

"I swear I put it in my jacket…"

He shook his head and pulled something else from his pocket, some cash tucked inside of a folded piece of paper.

"It took a while to check the name, and all I managed to find out was a possible work place. I want you to go see if you can spot the sheep there." He unfolded the paper and held it out to her. "That's the name, the place, and some directions."

Helena took the notes and cash and went to the door. Tomas snapped his fingers and she turned to look, just in time to catch a key that he tossed at her.

"While you're at it, look around the places you found that one," he said, gesturing in the direction of the room where Sarah was trapped. "Maybe one of them will be around there. But be discreet. Take the van, don't let anyone notice you."

"Of course."

* * *

Helena was not the best driver; no license, only a few lessons from a very impatient Maggie Chen, who had never liked to spend too much time around her. So she decided to go to the shop on foot, needing to stretch her legs anyway, and then come back afterwards for the van so that she could avoid driving on the busiest streets, where other cars always honked at her.

The sheep's workplace was a humble family-run coffee shop. When Helena swung the door open a little bell jingled, causing her to look up in surprise. At the counter a pretty girl with short brown hair was standing in front of an expansive list of different drinks. Helena couldn't understand most of them; she stood staring at the sign apprehensively for a moment before approaching the counter. It was then that she noticed the selection of desserts displayed behind glass to the left of the register. She swiped her tongue along her lips unintentionally.

"Hello," the girl behind the counter said. "Can I help you?"

"I need one of those." Helena pointed to a raspberry pastry.

"And would you like a drink to go with that?"

"Yes." She paused, the barista waiting with a wary look only slightly concealed behind a faint smile.

"We have a really nice caffè latte," she suggested as the bell rang and another patron walked in.

"Coffee?"

"Mhmm, espresso with steamed milk."

"Okay, good. I would like the caffè latte."

The girl looked relieved and put in the order to another employee who was working in the back. As she typed the numbers into the register Helena glanced at her name tag- _Carly_, it read in black print.

"For here, right?" Carly asked. Helena nodded. "That'll be five fifty."

She handed over all of the bills Tomas had given her, and took the change and pastry from the barista.

"Tim will bring the coffee over to your table in a minute."

Helena chose a seat at the back of the shop, facing the counter. She could not help but eat the pastry before her drink even arrived, licking the saccharine red jelly from her fingers when she had finished. The coffee she drank much more slowly, taking her time and watching customers come and go, her hood pulled protectively around her face. Nobody bothered her for a while until finally Tim came over again.

"I'm gonna need you to buy another drink if you want to stay here," he told her.

Helena handed him some of her change, enough for another cup of the same. He had just placed the steaming beverage on her table when the bell rang again. Tim straightened and waved at someone behind Helena.

"Hey, Chris," he said. Helena perked up at the name. She watched a skinny young woman walk to the back of the shop and pull her dyed blonde hair into a messy ponytail. Helena's shoulders sunk in disappointment when the woman turned around, revealing a gaunt, unfamiliar face. It was not the face of a sheep. Tomas must have gotten the wrong Christina.

Just to check, Helena brought her pastry wrapper to the garbage near the counter and tried to see the new girl's nametag. She could just make it out. _Christina_.

She returned to her table and finished her coffee, hand tightened in frustration around the cup. As she was staring at Christina disdainfully her eyes wandered back to the food display, and an idea hit her. She rifled through the remaining bills and walked over and handed them to Carly.

"Can I have one more of these?" she asked, pointing at the same pastry she had enjoyed. The girl bagged the dessert and Helena took it happily and headed back to the van. Perhaps she would have more luck with the other assignment.

* * *

She parked a little way down from the house where she'd found Sarah and her daughter together. She'd already been to the townhouse that belonged to Beth and Paul, but nobody was home. As she waited in the residential street she wondered if Paul missed Sarah; the idea that she was now closer to Sarah than the others in her life brought Helena a sick satisfaction.

She had never wanted to hurt Sarah in the beginning, just wanted to be her friend, to be close to her. But as time went on she'd felt even lonelier, a pit opening in her stomach, like she hadn't realized a part of her had been missing until now. When she'd seen the child she had realized that it was impossible for her to keep Sarah near for long; they belonged to different worlds, and Sarah had a beautiful life with this angel ahead of her, a life that resembled in no way whatever future Helena had in store for her. She was darkness and somehow Sarah had light.

Taking her had been an attempt to make some of that light her own, although by force.

Helena sighed and looked at the house. It seemed empty, as though no on were living in it. _Mrs. S_., the woman mentioned in the child's letter, must have taken her and gone somewhere else to hide, in case Helena returned.

After watching for a while longer she put the key in the ignition and pulled away.

* * *

When she returned to the freighter the sun was already a red ball sinking beneath the watery horizon, what was left of it in sight melting behind the curtain of rain that had begun to fall. Helena parked the van and took her time walking the pier, enjoying the feeling of the rain kissing her head. When she reached the entrance of the ship she turned and looked back to where she had seen the man that morning.

Once on the freighter she shook the rain from her coat and headed down to the lower deck. In the stairwell she could hear a drip falling steadily from a leak in the metal ceiling of the boat. When she got to the bottom and had walked a few paces a drop of water landed on her head and she brushed it from her wild hair. The steady metronome rhythm of the leak momentarily disrupted, she could suddenly make out a pair of voices echoing from further along the narrow passageway.

Knife already in hand, she stalked toward the sound. At the next corner she pressed herself to the wall and poked her head around to get a look. She could see the glow of a flashlight illuminating the rusted walls, painting them a burnt orange. The light was coming from the next area, the large storage space that she slept in, right next to the room where they were keeping Sarah.

Helena turned her ear toward the hallway, the voices understandable now.

"How did you find us?" She could tell that this was Tomas, his voice excited but slightly pained.

"We followed your van. Pretty good hiding spot, but you made a mistake when you took that woman."

"Not as big of a mistake as you made when you created her."

The light from the flashlight jerked up and down. Helena realized that the second speaker must be facing in her direction. She circled back to cut through another room and get behind him.

"I didn't create her, I'm just trying to keep her safe," she could hear the stranger say. He had a rough voice stripped of inflection. "Where's the other one, the killer? Is she with Sarah somewhere?"

"You won't find them."

Helena slipped out of a cramped control room and into the hallway that led to the back of the cargo area.

"I would really consider cooperating with me," the stranger warned.

Helena had the two in sight now, as she crouched carefully behind a container. The trespasser held a flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other, trained carefully on Tomas. It cast ghoulish shadows on the older man's pale face, which was creased with pain. Helena scanned his body for injury and saw that he had a hand clamped against his leg, the fingers stained with red.

She moved to get behind another container further up, planning to inch closer until there were no more empty containers and she was close enough to use her knife. She had left her gun on the ship before she'd gone out earlier that day. Just as she reached cover the stranger whipped around. Helena ducked behind the crate as he turned and watched the flashlight's beam circle the room.

"Is she locked up somewhere? Do you have a key?"

Tomas' only response was the sound of his slightly heavy breathing. The stranger's boots scuffed against the floor as he stepped forward.

"Is she dead? Answer me, you sick fuck, or the next shot won't be in your leg."

This time when Helena moved forward she made sure that Tomas could see her, waiting until he looked up in her direction. He blinked in surprise and looked away quickly to keep from revealing her position, but she could see his eyes fill with confidence. She was close now- it was only a matter of waiting for the right opportunity.

"I'll only tell you that she's not here, and if you kill me you can be sure that you'll never find her, dead or alive."

The man took better aim. "I think you're wrong," he said through gritted teeth. "Your psycho will make some kind of mistake without her boss to control her, and she'll lead us straight to Sarah."

"Maybe." Tomas shifted slightly in his seat. "Or maybe she'll be angry, and there won't be anyone left alive for you to find."

There was a pause in which she could feel the stranger's frustration taking over him, and then Tomas stood abruptly, surprising both of the others in the room. The man began to shout at him to sit down, clearly confused at how to handle the situation. His agitation was the opening that Helena needed- she withdrew her saran-wrapped pastry from her pocket and threw it against the far wall just slightly behind him, startling the intruder. He spun in the direction of the sound just as Helena lunged toward him, twisting his gun and wrenching it from his grip with one hand while simultaneously drawing the knife across his throat quick and deep with the other. She saw his blood before she'd even seen his face, spraying across the floor and down her hand. He staggered forward and turned to face her, choking helplessly, and she plunged the knife into his stomach to ensure that he was finished. As she drew the blade upward she realized that the face looked familiar. He sank to the ground, familiar features gaping in shock.

"Hello, Paul," she breathed.

He died staring straight at her. She saw the light fade from his handsome eyes and then looked at his neck, where the blood was beginning to clot but still ran red in some spots.

She'd watched him with Sarah once, on the day that he'd come to the station unnecessarily. Her hand had come to rest on that same neck with ease and Helena's whole body had ached. What would it be like to touch so casually, she'd wondered, as their lips had met and their eyes had closed.

The emptiness in his face now seemed fitting of a man who had known so little of what he'd become involved in.

Tomas limped over and broke Helena's thoughts. He pressed the soul of his shoe against the side of Paul's face, turning his vacant eyes to the stare unseeingly into the floor.

"A fool, although he stayed alive longer than the others. There were two more with him; they split up and he caught me by surprise. But I'm fine." He didn't sound fine, he sounded shaken, and Helena resented the weakness.

"The others are dead?"

"Yes, shot. You knew this one? Who was he?"

"A sacrifice," Helena murmured. She crouched and turned Paul's face again to look up at the ceiling, tracing his lips with her thumb. He was hers now, no longer a part of that world that she didn't belong to. Death was her means of connection, the only thing that she'd been given, the only thing that belonged to her.

Until Sarah. Very much alive Sarah, for whom she'd had to kill this man. The thought that he had once belonged to Sarah made Helena feel warmness toward Paul. Owning him was just another way of owning her.

Carefully, she bent over Paul and pressed her lips to his. They were cold and left her feeling emptier than before, and she pulled away after a second crawled by.

Tomas grabbed the back of her coat and pulled her up to her feet. "Focus!" he barked in revulsion. "There could be more coming, fools that they've managed to convince to do what they want. We need to leave, tonight. I have a place. Give me the keys to the van, you go get her out of that room and ready to come with us."

They exchanged keys and he left to tend to his leg and to the van. Before she went to the other room Helena picked up the pastry from where it had landed on the floor. She wiped some of the blood splatter off on the inside of her coat and tucked it back into her pocket.

* * *

Sarah was alert when the door next opened- she had been waiting for it, after hearing the distinct thunder of gunshots disturb the vacuum of silence that she'd become accustomed to. Dozens of explanations had flitted through her worried mind; had they captured someone else, had someone found them and come to free her? What would she do if Tomas had died and no one ever unlocked this room, leaving her to waste away to nothing?

No, Helena had proven herself far too adept at self-preservation to be killed in her own hiding place, she had decided. And then as if on cue the door opened and Sarah craned her neck to see the aforementioned woman enter the room.

Emerging through the doorway she looked different than usual, wilder. Her blonde mane was wet and flattened against her head, the dark roots showing through. It made her look more recognizably human, softer somehow but not any more vulnerable. More startling was the blood drying on her green coat and her skin, illuminated a fresh red by the light. She approached Sarah more quickly than usual and crouched behind the chair, removing the cuffs.

"What's happening? I heard-"

"We have to go." Taking hold of Sarah's now-freed wrists she began to ease her shoulders forward, before separating her hands and bringing her arms to the front of her. After being so still for so long the movement caused Sarah to gasp in pain. She inhaled slowly, the more relaxed position allowing her to breath better. Helena studied her for a moment and then bound her wrists again.

"Come," she said. "Stand up."

Sarah shook her head, suddenly filled with a desire to escape. If she went with Helena help might never find her. She should have known that she'd end up having no choice, but right then a voice inside instinctively urged her not to willingly participate in their escape.

"It will be easier if you help," Helena warned. She took hold of Sarah's arm, trying to lift her out of the seat. Sarah pulled against her.

"Fucking let go of me!" she snarled, exhausted and tired of being manhandled.

"Tomas will be angry if you take too long. You will have to come, awake or not."

Sarah considered the prospect of facing Tomas' rage. Her head already felt muddled and painful; she wasn't sure she'd be of any use to herself or others if she were injured further.

"Please, Sarah." Helena's grip on her arm was tightening to a painful degree and she couldn't think well anymore.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

She heard someone come into the other room and the noise broke her of her daze. She leaned forward to get her balance and stood. But as soon as she was on her feet her head began to pound and her vision swam with blinding, dizzy light. Helena was trying to hold her up by her arm but her legs shook and her knees buckled, sending her to the floor. She leaned on her bound hands, wincing as her broken fingers dug into the damp concrete, and swallowed back the bile rising in her throat.

Helena left her side and returned with the water bottle. Sarah managed to recover enough to drink a little, before she was ready to try again. With the blonde supporting a large amount of her weight she was able to drag herself to the doorway, strength slowly returning to her stiff limbs.

They stepped into the connected room, a much wider area with sparse furniture. It was the first time she was able to get a sense of where Helena had taken her; some kind of industrial space. In the darkness her eyes found a body lying awkwardly on the other side of the room. Blood stained the walls around him like a scene from a horror movie; she could smell it hanging in the air, a nauseating presence of death.

"Leave him," Helena said, her voice sounding strangely haunted. Sarah ignored her and pulled away to get nearer to the body.

Up close, the identity of the dead man was unmistakable. Time seemed to freeze as Sarah's mouth hung open in shock, her mind clouding over with disbelief.

"What did you do?" she whispered into the air, not sure to whom she was directing the question.

In death he looked more innocent, and all she could see when she looked at him was the man she had first seen in the photographs in Beth's apartment, the clueless boyfriend she'd had to trick. She felt dirty, staring at his disfigured neck, his glassy eyes. Suddenly the walls seemed to close inward, her situation made more real by this loss.

Helena's arm was around her waist again before she had even realized her moving, and Sarah looked down at the other woman's hand to find it smeared with dried blood. Her skin itched and she repeated her previous question.

"He was going to kill Tomas, take you away from me."

"He was going to take me back to where I belong," Sarah stammered, her voice strained. "With my family. You took me away from _them_."

Helena's treatment of her became more aggressive then, as she practically dragged a more resistant Sarah down a narrow hallway and up a staircase into the cold night air. By now she could tell that they were on some kind of ship; being outside should have felt like relief but all she could focus on was the track of blood coming from Paul's mouth, the sight burned into her mind.

Tomas was waiting for them on a boardwalk, his posture slightly lopsided and his face disgusted and impatient. The sight of him filled Sarah with hatred and vaguely she felt herself fight against him as he went to grab her from Helena, forgetting her decision to avoid angering him. She landed one good kick to his leg, causing him to double over before he roared in frustration and threw her to the boards, where she landed on her shoulder with a grunt. The fall jostled her head and she became dizzy again, giving him the opportunity to pick her up and carry her to a white van in a parking lot. Helena opened the doors and Tomas threw Sarah in the back before slamming them shut again without a word.

She leaned her back against the side of the van, shivering and listening to the rain accompany the sounds of the two conspirators talking outside. Her good hand curled into a fist and she kicked out at the air, wondering if anything could get worse.

Then the doors opened again, and the blood stained hand of her captor came into sight, followed by the woman herself. She sat down opposite Sarah just as the front door thudded shut and the engine came to life.

"There is no room in front," she said, "so I ride with you."

The sound of gravel shifting under the tires as the van pulled forward drowned out Sarah's defeated sob.


	5. Chapter 5

V

The van was flimsy; each pothole sent its unfortunate passengers lurching in every direction, sometimes dangerously close to one another. Sarah kept her eyes closed and attuned her senses to the world outside the vehicle. First she'd listened to the steady beat of rain, and when that had finally died away, she began to feel for each change in the road, every turn and stop. It kept her focused despite all that had and was happening.

Her diversion was eventually interrupted, however; the familiar voice across from her cut into her thoughts.

"You are cold."

Sarah opened her eyes reluctantly. Her drenched sweater was clinging to her icy skin, and she was suddenly aware of her teeth chattering. She brought her hands up against her chest, hugging her arms to the inside of her body. Helena was in the process of shrugging out of her coat but Sarah shook her head, looking away. She clenched her jaw to stop the shivering.

"I saved this for you," the blonde persisted. Sarah heard the sound of rustling plastic, and in her peripheral vision saw Helena slide something to her across the floor. She looked down. It was some kind of baked good, disfigured beneath the opaque creases in its wrapping.

Sarah's knotted stomach growled instinctively, but her eyes were fixed on the red jelly smeared against the inside of the plastic. An evocative, sick reminder.

"Oh, yea?" she ground out, picking up the dessert. "No thanks."

She crushed it between her hands, rendering it completely inedible. An ounce of unwanted remorse rose within her as her stomach growled again, and she dropped the food to the floor, telling herself that it wouldn't have relieved her hunger anyway. Helena's face twisted- with anger, hurt, disappointment, Sarah couldn't tell.

Good, she thought. She should be working on improving her relationship with her clone, or at least should have eaten the offering in case it was a while before another came, but this moment wasn't for her. It was for Paul, for the people who were worried about her, who might be in danger now because Helena had ripped Sarah right out of the middle of it all. Sarah had seen Helena eat; her food was precious to her. It may not be as precious as what she had taken from Sarah, but it was something.

The van hit another pothole before veering right. As it slowed to a stop Sarah could hear Tomas on the other side of the barrier, assumedly talking to somebody on the phone. Helena was alert now in the silence, radiating with anxiety.

The driver's door opened and slammed shut. Helena shifted back against the barrier so that she was facing the doors. Sarah watched her for a hint of what was to come, but she seemed equally in the dark about what was going on.

There was the sound of another car coming along the road. Sarah heard it pull up close to where they were parked and stop, the engine still running.

"Well?" A man's muffled voice, not Tomas'.

"They're in here."

"_They_?"

There was a click and the doors swung open to reveal the two men; Tomas in front, his hand still on the door handle, and a thinner man of about the same age peering in from behind him. The latter's pick up truck was parked behind them, its headlights still on and flooding the inside of the van with light. Sarah scooted backward, closer to Helena, whose attention was fixed on the stranger.

"Tomas?" she questioned without moving her gaze.

Tomas said nothing and turned to the other man. He had the eyes of a bug, protruding and vacant, and they flickered uneasily between the two women. When he spoke he didn't open his mouth fully, making his speech slow and muffled as if he were mumbling or speaking around some kind of obstacle.

"You brought me two of 'em? One wasn't enough for you?"

"It won't be trouble for you, trust me. Once we're at the farm I'll explain the situation."

The man paused, chewed his cracked lip in thought, ran a hand through prematurely graying hair. Sarah squinted past him at the surrounding area. For the most part there was unreadable darkness, the outlines of what could have been trees. The road was silent in a way not found in the city; they must be on a back road in the country somewhere.

"Why're they still alive, Tom?"

Tomas shifted uncomfortably at the comment, afraid to have that kind of talk in front of his pet, Sarah imagined. She glanced at Helena, who was practically baring her teeth at the stranger. She remembered what the cops had said about children raised in isolation; Helena probably didn't do too well with strangers, even ones that didn't want her dead, she imagined.

"It's been a long time, my friend. We haven't had a chance to stay properly in contact. Take us back with you and we can talk there."

The man pinched the bridge of his hooked nose and shook his head. "Fine, get 'em in the truck. They can stay in the old barn- I'm not having that kind of filth in my house. My wife wouldn't stand for it anyway." He turned to go back to his ride, tucking his hands in his pockets as if he didn't want to get them dirty. Sarah thought of calling out to him, trying to convince him to let her go, but she could already tell that it wouldn't work. She turned to Helena instead. The blonde was pressed into the back of the van like a cornered animal.

"You did not say there would be someone else," she muttered to Tomas.

"He's on our side. He can be trusted. Now get the prisoner into the truck so we can hurry and go." Still Helena hesitated, staring into the bright headlights as if danger were lurking behind them.

"Helena," Sarah tried, "he's going to get in between us. You heard him-"

"The only one getting in the way here is you," Tomas deftly cut her off, grabbing her by her bicep and yanking her from the back of the truck and onto the wet grass. Once she was outside of the van her clone followed more easily, leaping down beside the two of them and taking Sarah's arm from Tomas.

"Come, Sarah," she said in a dead tone. "Sometimes we must trust in God's plan."

"I don't like him."

"I know, but we need him, child. You'll be good here, won't you?"

Here: a cavernous barn the colors of mud and amber, air thick with dust, even colder than the ship had been. Helena gazed forlornly down the long aisle of disused stalls.

"Why can't we go somewhere else?" Her voice was a whine, and she saw that it made Tomas' eyes tired.

"There is nowhere else. You know how hard it was for me to find the ship while you were out working. This is a good, isolated place. It will give us plenty of time to get information and form our next plan. Speaking of which, what did you discover about the target?"

Helena shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "She…"

"Yes?"

"She was not a sheep, Tomas." She winced prematurely in anticipation.

"What do you mean?" he demanded with irritation. "Don't tell me you're convinced that this one is different, too."

"No. She is not one of them. You must have found the wrong Christina. Maybe there's another, in the city."

With concentrated anger Tomas dropped his arm from where he had been resting it on the top of a stall door, making the wood rattle in its hinges. Helena flinched violently as he turned to pace.

"No, no, there was just one listed. That devil must have given us a fake name. I should have known; she gave it up so easily. I thought she was just weak."

"She is not weak," Helena answered automatically. Then, thinking better of the response, added, "Maybe the sheep is… untraceable, somehow. Like me."

Tomas shook his head and walked toward the last stall at the end of the aisle, Helena close at his heels. He wrenched open the door, almost slamming it into Sarah, who was chained by one wrist to a metal rail on the adjacent wall. Helena could not see Sarah but she could hear her sharp inhalation and the cuffs rattling, as though she had raised her hands in a sign of submission.

"Do you think I'm a fool?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I assumed you would have a better instinct for self-preservation than to lie to me. Or maybe your loyalty really does run that deep. Shame, that it's misplaced."

"You mean…Christina? She's on the run, you might not be able to track her down."

Sarah's words were unconvincing; Helena could hear the lie in them immediately.

Tomas stepped further into the stall, and Helena was about to step in with him, but then the door on the opposite side of the barn opened and she turned to see the stranger looking in. They both stared at each other for a moment, unmoving, before she saw something curl up behind his eyes, and he looked away from her.

"Tomas!" he called past her loudly. There was a thud accompanied by the sound of Sarah's cuffs rattling again before Tomas emerged from the stall.

"Yes, Sutton?"

"The wife wants to welcome you with a late dinner. Let's not keep her waiting, a'right? And tie that one up-" he pointed a crooked finger at Helena- "before you come."

He left them alone in the silent barn, and Helena turned to Tomas, begging him silently with her eyes.

"I'm not going to do as he said, because I know that you won't betray me. And in return for me doing what you wish, I need you to do something for me, for our shared purpose, that should have been done earlier." He looked back at the stall, and Helena's heart dropped to her stomach. "Get me a name, Helena. Do whatever's necessary. It better be done by tomorrow morning."

He walked away, leaving Helena standing frozen in the straw, her field of vision narrowing to the lock on the door behind which Sarah lay waiting.

The silence magnified and grew loud in her head. She balanced on the balls of her feet, senses heightened, adrenaline pumping with nowhere to go. The walls of the stall closed in on her, narrowing her focus on the purpose in front of her. But she could not act.

One should not worship idols. Only God. God, not Sarah. Sarah leaning limply against the wall, silent, not yet broken but fracturing. _We have a connection_, Helena remembered. But she couldn't find it, staring into eyes where the fire that had burned bright was flickering. Had she done that?

Sarah had heard Tomas' words. She knew. Helena could see the knowing in those eyes. They were waiting, asking her if she could do what she'd been told, asking her to define where she stood. She had no answer.

To force herself to action she grabbed Sarah by the neck of her sweater, like Tomas always did to her. She snarled, shaking the other woman. "How can I make you see? Just give me the names." Sarah said nothing. "I don't want to hurt you!"

"Then don't," Sarah urged firmly. "You don't have to."

It sounded so simple, it felt right, and she wanted so desperately to take that option that her wanting made every muscle in her body go rigid. But her _purpose_; she was meant to be saving Sarah, not allowing herself to be tempted by her. Taking a deep breath she withdrew her knife from her pocket, letting the metal hover beside Sarah's face.

"If you tell me the name, I can stop." Sarah just continued to stare at her silently. She lowered the knife, telling herself not to look at that face. Just a sheep. Still just a sheep, despite their connection.

The knife dropped to the straw. Her hand flew to the sheep's soft neck. Squeezed tight. The sheep's hand reached up and clenched tightly around her wrist. She heard the familiar gasping, the panic rising vicariously in her own chest. She did not look. She counted, felt the breath die beneath her fingers. Then she let go.

Now she had to look, but only quickly, at the pain in front of her. "Do you have a name?" she asked automatically. Her only answer was Sarah's shaky breathing. Helena counted to ten, and reached out again.

This time the hand pulled harder on her wrist, clawing at her fingers. She heard strangled whimpering and growling. There was more movement, more fear, and then, slowly, stillness. Just before there was nothing left, she let go once more.

Tears were waiting to fall in Sarah's eyes. Helena looked away from them. She felt suddenly angry, that Sarah was willing to suffer for her love of the others. How could she love them and deny Helena? "Do you think you should suffer for the others?" she asked. "They are less than you. They have less to lose. They are empty. You- you created light."

The words sent the tears down Sarah's cheeks. Helena wasn't sure why she was crying, exactly, but she found that she suddenly wanted to cry as well.

"Helena." Her voice was a thin whisper. "I'm not the only one who can create light. You can, too. It starts… with leaving Tomas."

Helena shook her head. Even if Tomas was darkness, his absence was not necessarily light. It was _nothing_. It was being alone.

She brushed her fingers over Sarah's neck again, making her breathe faster as she tried to hold back tears.

"When Tomas tells you to do something, doesn't it feel wrong?" she reasoned. The sentence seemed to take all of her breath and she slumped back, swallowing thickly. She gestured with her free hand to her neck. "Doesn't this feel wrong?"

Yes, Helena thought, looking at the raw skin. Yes, but she couldn't allow herself to indulge such thoughts. In an effort to clear her mind she began to tighten her fingers again. Just as she did, though, Sarah's eyes grabbed and held her own, and she was unable to look away. The sight of such desperation and vulnerability was too familiar, and she suddenly felt unbearably sick as she watched Sarah struggle. Gasping, she ripped her hand away and pushed herself back against the opposite wall, cursing outwardly at her failure.

Tomas would be unhappy. _God_ would be unhappy. Her throat constricted and she turned and slipped her coat from her shoulders, the retrieved blade finding her back instinctively. She was unsure whether the punishment was for disobeying her orders or for hurting Sarah, but as she drew the razor downward the only thing she was thinking about was the latter.

"Helena," Sarah whispered from behind her. "Stop." Her raspy voice only made Helena feel sicker, and, trembling, she sunk the metal deeper behind her shoulder blade. Red drops fell to saturate the straw. Sarah's voice sounded behind her again. "You don't need to do that."

Helena turned. "I do," she murmured, her voice sounding eerily like an echo of her clone's.

"Why?"

Helena's answer was automatic. "To atone."

The words carried up and expanded against the ceiling of the barn. With Sarah behind her they didn't ring true like they should. She felt more vulnerable than before, like a child again, like the child she had seen in Sarah's eyes moments before who had scared her from her purpose. Her hand stilled and she could not continue. The ache in her heart overpowered the stinging on her back.

"You're insulting your God," Sarah murmured. "You're destroying one of his creations."

"We are created in sin, he understands, I am a vessel for sin and that is what I destroy."

She thought she could feel Sarah's head shaking behind her. "Free me, Helena, and I'll show you what it's supposed to be like. Life without sin."

Helena was no longer listening to her.

"He will be so mad. I don't have a name. It will ruin everything."

"We can face him together. I know it's hard but you don't have to keep doing this."

"Yes!" she almost cried. "Yes, I do." She rocked on her heels, fingers pressed worriedly to her lips. She knew that she could not complete her task, but she also knew that she could not leave, not yet. She wasn't ready.

"Please no more talking," she said, turning to sit against the wall next to Sarah. "We must pray now." She closed her eyes and reached blindly for the other woman's free hand, finding that it fit her own perfectly. Warmth spread through her and she began to whisper well-memorized words. The foreign language fell meaningless on Sarah's ears but Helena hoped that despite her silence she still felt the meaning, felt the change that was fracturing the foundation of what she stood for.


End file.
